Tessa made the short walk from her street over to Bakery Avenue, the morning sun barely warming the air. She kept her hands in her pockets and smiled when she saw the pink bicycle leaning up against the front of the bakery.
Finding out Helen Ivy actually owned the bakery had been a shock to her, because Helen had never said a single word about it. In fact, she’d told Janey that she “didn’t do anything,” and that she was “free almost all the time.”
A bell tinkled as she went inside, and a young woman turned from the counter that ran along the back wall. A smile stretched across her face, and she said, “Good morning. What can I help you with?”
“I need a half-dozen box of your carrot cake bars,” Tessa said, peering into the case. As the girl got to work on those, Tessa checked out the ecla
